


I've got a lover a love like religion

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Dystopia, F/F, Motel room, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 20:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11134242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Jemma is trapped by her parents, Daisy is trapped by her powers. So they decide to run away. They find a moment of peace in a motel room and a bottle of wine.





	I've got a lover a love like religion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PiperHG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiperHG/gifts).



> From this tumblr prompt: "Things you said when you were drunk"
> 
> Warning for language.
> 
> Title from "Coming down" by Halsey.

_ Every single night pray the sun will rise _

_ Every single time make a compromise _

* * *

Daisy never wanted to take Jemma to a seedy motel like this. 

Jemma was born into wealth, raised in ballet classes and piano lessons, and blossomed between the tea roses like a beautiful but exotic flower herself (Daisy would love to be able to say _ which  _ flower, but, well, _ she  _ didn’t have _ that  _ kind of education). Jemma deserves french pastries and incunable books and a haiku that compares the colour of her eyes to fallen leaves during autumn.

Instead, Daisy can give her this cheap-ass motel room, and the cheapest bottle of rosé wine known to man, that she turned into sparkling, and a future full of shortage and shame.

The best suitor of the whole gang, as one could say.

It’s not that she is regretting what they did, running away from Jemma’s controlling parents and her own abusive mother, trying desperately to avoid an arranged marriage for Jemma and a forced “public service” for herself, she just wishes that circumstances were different. She wishes they lived in a more accepting world, full of possibilities, where will and skill were more valued than power and money. Where monsters weren’t girls with broken bones on their arms and sharp girls weren’t wild animals that needed to be tamed. 

She wishes for a lot of things, to be honest.

“I quite like the, ah, quaint wallpaper, to be honest.”

Daisy takes Jemma’s hands in hers. They are freezing, which is not unusual, but it makes her feel guiltier, because this place doesn’t even have heat.   

“Jemma, stop trying to make something good out of this. This is a shithole, but we needed a place shady enough to not ask for our IDs, so it is what it is. It’s just for one night, anyway. We have to stay on the run.”    

Jemma smiles, and Daisy’s heart flutters at her trying to be reassuring.

“We will make it work.”

Daisy exhales and yeah, she is so in love with her that it hurts, and that makes all of this worth it. That love would make anything worth it. But she takes a step back, because she needs to keep a healthy balance between remembering it and drowning in it. Her love for Jemma is her driving force and her biggest weakness at the same time; she needs to keep one of them strong without feeding the other. 

“Wine?”

_ “S’il vous plaît.” _

Jemma is doing it for mockery, Daisy knows, but it turns her on so much when she speaks french that her hands tremble while she pours the wine in two plastic cups, and then offers one to Jemma.

“How do I say cheers in french?”

Jemma smiles and clinks her cup with Daisy’s.

_ “Santé.” _

_ “Santé.” _

They both take a gulp and Daisy is used to it, but Jemma can’t help to make a face at the cheap taste, and Daisy laughs.

“It gets better with time, princess.”

Jemma bites her lower lip, and when Daisy is almost leaning down to kiss her, Jemma empties the cup in one long gulp and then pushes it towards her.

“Pour me more?”

Daisy doesn’t know if she should be surprised or proud.

“Of course.”

* * *

 

They are lying side by side in one of the two beds- being the owner of a shady place apparently doesn’t exempt you from being a homophobic asshole-, not quite drunk but also not quite sober. Jemma has one arm raised in the air, watching the curve and the flex of her own fingers, and Daisy is watching, well, her.

Having so much time alone with Jemma is a luxury, but one that she could very well get used to. She is only wary that this is just a short-term fantasy, that tomorrow or the day after that, or a week from now, they will realize that what they are trying to do is chimeric, or Jemma will get bored or will panic and will want to come back to the lifestyle she is used to. Daisy won’t really blame her, because what does she really have to offer, to her or to anyone?

(Fuck, she shouldn’t have bought wine. It makes her melancholic.)

As it always have been between them, they only have the present, the now, the right-this-very-minute.

That, and their daydreams. 

“What would you like to do if this life wasn’t so shitty?” 

Jemma’s question startles her, because she was so focused on watching her that for a second she almost forgot that Jemma’s thoughts not necessarily line up with hers.

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it before.”

Jemma looks at her with disbelief, and Daisy avoids her gaze. 

“Come on, Daisy, you know you can tell me everything.”

That’s something Jemma always tells her, and Daisy struggles to believe it, because she has spent all her life hiding in one way or another, skimping on information about herself, or about her life, or about her powers, or about her sexuality, or. It’s hard to break an acquired habit like that.

But she wants to believe her, wants to believe _ in  _ her, in this, in their joined hands in this ratty mattress, so she inhales and starts talking without looking at her.

“I would like to help people. So maybe I could be some sort of cop, in a world where cops fulfilled their original purpose of serving and protecting the innocent, you know? The, um, the powers wouldn’t hurt.”

Jemma squeezes her hand and Daisy looks down first at their hands and then at Jemma’s face; her soft smile makes her heart tremble, and really, she is pretty sure her powers are not to blame.

“You would be perfect for it, you know that?”

Her voice is bittersweet, because there is the innegable implication that it is something nice to dream about, but that could never happen. Daisy tries to get her hurt and her anger under control by deviating the attention.

“What about you? What would you like to do in a world without french lessons and a manners governess?”

Jemma makes a little huff, but her eyes are gentle and her hand still tender in Daisy’s while she answers.

“I didn’t mind much the french lessons, or the piano, for that matter. But I want to do so much more. You know I love to observe the world, but I would like to do it in a more rational, educated way. With more theory between my ears and with better instruments in my hands. Maybe I would become a doctor. Doctor Simmons has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Daisy’s voice is hoarse while she answers, because she might not be truly drunk on the wine, but she is truly drunk on this girl, who had a lot of unimportant things and is always looking for the essence of life, who wants too much from the world and has so much to give. 

This girl, who has soft hands and a soft voice and a soft heart and a razor-sharp mind. This girl who doesn’t only deserve the world; this girl who is going to _ conquer  _ the world for herself, and for some reason that eludes logic, this girl has decided that one of the things she wants is her. This girl has made _ Daisy  _ her girl, and Daisy is going to hold onto that tight, tight, tight for as long as possible, hoping on forever.

“We’re going to get that life, Doctor Simmons. I promise you we will.” 

Jemma looks at her and there are stars on her eyes, and Daisy doesn’t dare to kiss off the taste of the wine from her lips, but she draws them with just the pad of one finger. When she finishes the design, she feels like she has just summoned an oracle to talk to her.  

“I _know_ we will.”


End file.
